


Wanheda

by eternaleponine



Series: The 100 Clexa Reunion [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In trying to figure out 'what happens now?', Clarke overhears the title that the Grounders have given her, and Lexa has to try to explain.</p><p>Follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5006230">Your Enemy Is My Enemy</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanheda

"So how do we do this?" Clarke asked, for the second – or was it third? – time, as if somehow this time a solution would present itself. As if somehow this time there would be an answer. 

"I don't think there is a how," Lexa said. "I think we just do it."

"But _how_?" Clarke said, and then grimaced like she hadn't meant to say it, or like she hadn't realize that she was going to say the same thing yet again until it was already out of her mouth. 

"We leave this room, and we join our people, and—" The look on Clarke's face was enough to stop her. "What?"

"Your people," Clarke said.

"Is that not what I said?" 

"You said _our_ people," Clarke told her. "But they're not our people. They're your people. My people..." She frowned. "I don't have any people."

Lexa wanted to say the right thing, wanted to say the thing that would get through to Clarke and set her mind (and her heart – especially her heart) at ease, but the truth was she wasn't sure what that would be, or if there _was_ anything that could be said that would achieve that. Still, she carefully weighed her words, forming replies and dismissing them, until what she finally said was the one thing that she knew to be absolutely, inarguably true. "You have me."

The words hung between them, and for a second she thought that Clarke would brush them aside, or pick them apart, or dismiss them as untrue, with a list of reasons why not. Instead, she just nodded, slowly, and then looked away, over the edge of the bed. "Where are my clothes?"

Lexa laughed, less because it was funny than because she was relieved. "I suspect they're on the floor, or tangled in the blankets, where we left them last night."

"Whose fault is that?" Clarke countered, slipping from under the covers and into the chill air of the room, finding discarded garments and dressing quickly, and Lexa watched because she enjoyed watching her, remembering the process in reverse, remembering what it was like to touch her skin, to taste it...

"Is there fault to be laid?" she asked. 

"No," Clarke said. "But shouldn't you get dressed, too? If we're going face your people?" 

Lexa wasn't sure if she imagined the slight emphasis on the word 'your', but she didn't want to make it into a bigger thing than it needed to be. "I should," she said. "We have to face them sometime."

"And we just... act normal?"

Lexa nodded. "As best you can, yes," she said. "I know that this is not normal for you. This is not something that you have experienced before. I'm not sure I know what the normal will be, when you are revealed to be here. I don't think it will be bad." She hoped it wouldn't. But from the whispers that had made their way to her ears, Clarke was becoming something of a legend among her people – and not just the Trikru, but all of her people, all of the clans – and her name was spoken, and the new name that she had been given that Lexa knew she couldn't keep from her, but that she wished she could, because it was the last thing that Clarke needed to hear – and she was spoken of with awe, and admiration, and a little fear.

"Even if not everyone is happy about it, you are here under my protection, as you have always been when dealing with my people, and they should know better than to challenge that." _Quint learned that the hard way._

"All right," Clarke said, and finished dressing.

Lexa pulled on her own clothes, and then went to the door to summon the girl who would braid her hair, because it was too intricate to do herself. There were a few that attended her for that purpose, but the one that came was the same one who she had sent away the night before, and she wondered if the girl had stayed all night, waiting to be called on. 

The girl stepped into the room, and Lexa saw her gaze dart around, looking for (and finding) the woman who had barged in the night before, causing her abrupt dismissal. She looked quickly away, and took up the comb as Lexa sat down, and Lexa could imagine the grimace of disapproval that her face had likely shifted into as she saw that all of her careful combing from the night before had been undone, and now she was starting from the beginning again, and with dry hair that had tangled itself in the night.

Lexa didn't really blame her when she was perhaps a little less gentle than she might otherwise be about sorting it out. She thanked her when she was done, checking the results in her little scrap of mirror.

" _Heda,_ " the girl said, her gaze shifting to Clarke for a moment. " _Do you want me to braid her hair as well?_ " She spoke in Trigedasleng, because she didn't know anything else.

" _That's up to her,_ " Lexa replied, and then turned to Clarke, who had been watching, she suspected, but sort of out of the corner of her eye, pretending not to. "Clarke, do you want your hair braided?"

"No," Clarke said, and smiled at the girl. "Thank you."

The girl bobbed her head. " _Sha, Wanheda._ "

" _You can go,_ " Lexa said. " _Thank you._ "

As soon as the girl was gone, Clarke looked at her. "What is _Wanheda_?"

Lexa cursed silently. Not the girl herself because it wasn't her fault; she had only been trying to be respectful. At least Lexa assumed that was the case. From what she had heard, they were using the term as one of respect... and sometimes a little bit of fear, but it wasn't meant to be an insult or a curse, she was fairly certain. 

Tell the truth, or lie? 

Clarke would see right through a lie, or if she didn't, it wasn't likely to be long before she discovered it for what it was. So it had to be the truth.

"It is what they are calling you," Lexa said carefully.

She was sure she didn't imagine that Clarke rolled her eyes at that. "What does it _mean_ , Lexa?" she demanded. "I know that _heda_ is commander."

"Yes," Lexa said. "And _wan op_ is to die."

"So... die... death commander?"

"Commander of death," Lexa replied. "More or less." She took a step toward Clarke, wanting to touch her, to steady her, because she didn't imagine that this was going to go over well with the Sky Girl, who had done what she had to do, but who made herself suffer under the guilt of it. 

"Don't," Clarke said, her hands up as if to defend herself. "Don't try to touch me. Don't try to make this better."

"You saved them," Lexa said. "They respect you for that."

"I didn't _save_ anyone," Clarke said. "I—"

Lexa's eyebrows went up. "You know that it is not true, Clarke," she said. "You saved your people. You would not have done it if they hadn't been in danger of losing their lives. You did it to save them."

"There might have been another way," Clarke said.

"No," Lexa said. "If there is one thing that I can tell you for certain, it is that there would not have been another way. As long as they lived, as long as any one of them lived, it would not have ended. How else could you have done it? Only killed those who were part of killing your people, draining them dry? Leave the others? They would have died anyway, of exposure, without treatment."

"People might have volunteered to give them treatment," Clarke said. "The children..."

"So you would kill all of the adults and save the children? And then what? Your people would have cared for them? My people certainly would not have."

"Because your people are—" Clarke stopped herself. "I don't—"

This time it was Lexa that stopped her. "You don't what? You don't want to talk about it? I don't care. You _need_ to talk about this. You need to understand what you did, and the impact that it had." She wanted to ask what Clarke had started to say about her people, but now was not the time, and anyway, she could guess. Clarke had likely been going to say something along the lines of 'your people are heartless,' which Lexa knew to be a lie, but she could understand Clarke's perception. She had only ever dealt with their warriors, after all, and how could they be anything else, when it was their lives on the line all the time? Compassion was not a trait that lent itself well to the life that they were forced to lead.

"One way or another, the people of the mountain would have died," Lexa said. "You might have saved a few of them, with volunteers, but why would anyone have _wanted_ to save the people that had been set on sucking them dry? These are not good people you were trying to save. These are not innocent people. For generations, they have kept themselves alive by killing my people, and turning them against us, using us as human guard dogs whose only desire is to tear us apart and eat our flesh, drink our blood. Do you understand that, Clarke? Do you understand that that is what Reapers do?"

Clarke shuddered. "Lexa, please. I—"

"No," Lexa said. "You will listen, Clarke." When she did not object again, Lexa continued, trying to keep her voice even, the words measured. "You saved your people, not just for that moment, but forever. And you saved mine. I had made a deal to get my people out of that mountain. We had made a truce. The return of all of my people that they held captive, and no more Reapers would be created... because they would be able to live on the ground, with your blood. With your marrow. I made that deal to save who I could while I could... knowing that it was not likely to last forever. Because what if it didn't work the way that they hoped? What if it was not the permanent solution that they thought it was? What if there was not enough to go around? They would be back after my people for more, more, always more. Because that is how they are.

"But I thought that if they made it to the ground, if Clarke of the Sky People did not find another way – and I hoped, I hoped with all that I was that you would – that at least then they would be on my turf, and on my terms. We left the mountain, ceding it to them, but do you think they would have been content with that, Clarke? Do you think for one minute that once they were on the ground that what they had would have been enough for them? No. Because it never is. They would have started expanding their claim, heading into the forests to try to take again what is ours. They would have broken the truce. And we would have slaughtered them. Maybe that makes us heartless. Maybe that makes us barbarians. But they would never stop unless someone stopped them. That is how people like that are. You did what we would have done, and now it is over, and your people and my people can now think about a future where we will not always be fighting – literally fighting – to survive. The name, the title, may sound harsh to you, but... it is a title even above mine, in a way. You did what I did not. You ended it once and for all, when I ended it only for now. I saved my people the best way that I could, and I left yours to die. I left you to die. I hoped that you would not, but... but I accepted that it was possible. Maybe even that it was likely." She looked down, pressing her lips together, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, to blink back the tears that burned her eyes. "You saved your people, and mine, for now and forever. If you do not like the title, I will see what I can do to make it go away. But maybe it would be better to just accept it. Maybe it would be better to... to take it as the sign of respect, of awe, that it is meant to be, and use it to your advantage."

Clarke looked at her, shaking her head. "How? How am I supposed to accept a name that basically labels me a murderer? I know that I am, but—"

"No," Lexa said. "It is not _murder_ to kill your enemy in battle. If we had gone into the mountain and had to kill everyone who stood in our way one by one, would that have been murder?"

"No," Clarke said. "Not if they were threatening our lives."

"They were _all_ threatening our lives," Lexa said. "Their _existence_ threatened ours, because as long as you had something that they wanted, that they needed, you would never be safe. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

Clarke opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head again. 

"This is war, Clarke," Lexa said. "In war, people die. Sometimes innocent people who are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Grieve for them if you must, but do not let it stop you from living. Because that was the final battle. Now the war is over, and you won. You won it for your people, and you won it for mine. We have the opportunity now to use that to our advantage."

"How?" Clarke asked. "How can this be used to our advantage?"

Lexa hesitated, just for a second, because what Lexa-the-girl wanted to say wasn't exactly the same as what Lexa-the-Commander wanted to say, and she wasn't sure which approach to take. But they weren't so very different, were they? One would... or could... follow the other. "You still want to keep your people safe, yes?"

"Yes."

"The alliance is fragile, but it is not entirely broken. It might only be a matter of time. But if you want it... if you want to keep the alliance in place, between your people and mine, if you want to try to find a way for our people to coexist, to work together... that is something that I think we can do. You are not a murderer to my people, Clarke. You are a savior. If you wish for us to work with the Sky People, for us to find a place for them among us, or alongside us, or whatever you – we – decide is best, then I think we can make that happen. That is what I mean when I say you can use this to your advantage."

Clarke nodded slowly, then stopped. "I don't know if that's what my people will want."

"If it's not, then they are stupid," Lexa replied. "I know that you did not control where you landed when you fell from space, but it does not change the fact that we were here first, and any act of aggression, any act taken to try to claim this place for your own, will be seen as an act of war, and we will end up back where we started. You do not want that, and neither do I. But it will mean negotiation. It will mean your people making at least some attempt to understand mine... and vice versa. It will mean work, and it will not always be easy. But I think it is possible. If we... if we are possible, then I think anything is possible."

"Are we?" Clarke asked. "Are we possible?"

"I thought we decided that we were," Lexa said. "I thought we decided that we could at least try." But maybe something had changed in all of this, in the midst of all of these words, and was it any wonder that Lexa sometimes tried to say as little as possible? Had she said something, had Clarke heard something, that had made her reconsider?

"I do not want more killing," Clarke said. "I do not want more death. All of my life... all of my mother's life... everyone on the Ark since it came together... Earth has been the dream. Returning to Earth, and living, and... Now we're here, and it's nothing like we imagined. Or... nothing like I imagined, but then we were always told that it was uninhabited, that there was no way that anyone could have survived."

"Now you know that is not true," Lexa said. "And you cannot change that fact. There are not enough of you to kill us all."

"That's not what I want!" Clarke snapped. "Damn it, Lexa, why—"

Lexa touched her then, brought her hands up to touch her face gently. "I know," she said. "I know that you do not want any more death, that too much blood has been spilled, that all you want is for this to end and for everyone to get a chance to find peace. I know. Do you think that I am so different?"

Clarke looked at her, really looked, and Lexa did not look away. If Clarke was trying to see into her mind, into her soul, to find the truth there behind all of the words that might or might not be lies, Lexa left the doors wide open, letting her search for the answers she sought. "No," Clarke said finally. "No, you are not so different."

Everything Lexa had done had been to try to find peace for her people. The alliance between the clans, the alliance with the Sky People... all she had wanted was an end to constant battles and death. All she had wanted was for her people to have a chance to build something, instead of constantly rebuilding. Not just Trigedakru, but all of the clans. Even Azgeda. She could have sought revenge for Costia's death, and many had thought that she should. Many had questioned her then, when the person she had loved the most was taken, tortured, killed, and she did nothing. 

And she'd wanted to. Oh, she'd wanted to. She'd wanted to march an army in and kill every last one of them for what they'd done, or what they hadn't stopped. But what would it have solved, really? It wouldn't have brought Costia back. It would only have proved her to be as ruthless and bloodthirsty as the Ice Queen, and was that how she wanted to be seen? Is that how she wanted to be remembered?

So she'd chosen to seek peace instead, to seek an end to it so that no one else would have to feel what she felt, until she managed to stop feeling altogether. She had shut herself down, closed off her heart, to do what had needed to be done. 

Now that was threatened, and it was her job to hold it together, or risk going back to where they'd started, or worse. And that included keeping the peace with the Sky People, because for better or for worse, they were here now, and they were not going to go away. There was nowhere for them _to_ go. They couldn't go back to the stars. And the idea that they could simply assimilate into the Trikru was unlikely.

So now there were thirteen clans, and all of them were her responsibility. But maybe she didn't have to bear it alone. If they could capitalize on Clarke's status... Well, it might just give them what they needed to get everyone together and keep them there long enough to convince them of the benefits of a long-lasting peace. 

"This is our chance, Clarke," Lexa said. "We may not get another. We stand together, and perhaps our people will find a way to do the same. If you can forgive me, perhaps your people will too." She tucked back a stray strand of Clarke's hair, tracing the back of her fingers down her cheek, feeling the tension there. "If you can forgive me," she repeated, and this time it was a question.

"I..." Clarke hesitated. "It shouldn't be that easy. You left us to die."

"But you didn't die."

"No thanks to you," Clarke said, then sighed. "I know, Lexa. I know that you made the decision with your head, and not your heart. I know that when it came right down to the numbers, it made sense, and I know that if I was in the same position, if I had been offered a deal that saved my people, even at the cost of yours... I can't say that I wouldn't have taken it, even if the numbers were exactly what they were. They had my friends. They had my mom. I would have done anything to save them. If they had asked for my life in exchange for everyone else's..."

Lexa flinched. She knew what Clarke was going to say, and she didn't want to hear it, and for a fleeting moment she thought about kissing her to silence her, to keep the words from coming out of her mouth, but no, that wasn't who she was, wasn't who they were, and it wasn't a precedent she wanted to set, ever. Clarke had let her speak; she owed her the same consideration. But her voice had trailed off, and so Lexa filled in the gap. "I am glad that that was not the deal that was offered."

Clarke's eyes bored into her then, and she opened her mouth, then closed it again and shook her head. 

"What?" Lexa asked.

"Nothing," Clarke replied. "I was going to ask you about a hypothetical scenario, but it wasn't what happened, and it wouldn't do either of us any good to even consider the answer."

"What?" Lexa asked again. 

"No," Clarke said. "No, because I don't want to know what you would say, and I don't want to make you think about how you would have answered."

Lexa shook her head. "But now you've thought it," she said. "You will not be able to stop yourself thinking about it."

"I know," Clarke said. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."

"Just tell me," Lexa said. "Because now I will not stop wondering."

Clarke sighed, and now it was her hands that came up, her thumbs tracing along Lexa's jaw, trying to ease the tension there. "I thought, 'What if they had asked for me?' Like you asked for Finn's life for the villagers of TonDC... what if they had asked for me. What if they had said, 'We will give you back all of your people, and leave you in peace, and all we ask in exchange is for you to hand over Clarke.'"

Lexa took a step back, wrenching herself from Clarke's touch, shaking her head. "Why?"

"I can't help where my mind goes sometimes," Clarke said. "I'm sorry."

"No," Lexa said. "That is how I would respond to them. I would ask them why. Why you were the bargaining chip that they asked for. Why you were so valuable that they would give up all of my people just for you. Even though I know – if they had gotten you, if they had killed you, it might have crushed the spirit of your people – even though I know that, I still would have asked. And I would have told them that you were not mine to command, that you were not... that I could not make that bargain. That if they wanted to negotiate for your life, they would have to do so with you, because I would not do it."

"Even if it meant that you would have lost some, or all, of your people, instead of just me?"

Lexa nodded. "We would have died defending ourselves, at least."

"But why would it have made a difference, my one life or the lives of my people? You were happy enough to bargain them away."

"I was not _happy_ to do anything, Clarke," Lexa said. "But with the deal I made, the lives of my people were guaranteed, and your death was not a certainty. There was still a chance you would find a way out of it. And you did. I was willing to bargain on an uncertain outcome. I do not think I could have made the same choice knowing that you would certainly die." 

"But you might have," Clarke said.

"It is impossible to know what choice you might have made in a situation that did not happen," Lexa said. "Can you swear that if they had approached you, offered you the lives of all of your people, not just for that day but forever, and all you had to do was give them the Commander, that you would have said no?"

Clarke looked down for a second, then back up at her, and shook her head. "No," she said. "I can't swear that." 

"Then we are in the same place – glad that we did not have to make that choice."

"I don't want this to be how we are," Clarke said. "I don't want this to haunt us forever, to always be between us... but I don't know if there's any way for it not to be."

"Peace," Lexa said. "If we can make peace between our people, if we can make sure that the peace lasts with the other clans... maybe then we will be able to let it go. If we can build something better together..."

"Do you think that we can?" Clarke asked. "Or are we just deluding ourselves?"

"I think that we can," Lexa said. "I think that we will lead by example, and that our people will follow."

"Where do we start?" Clarke asked.

Lexa smiled. "By stepping out that door. Let me show you Polis. Let me show you that we are more than just warriors."

"Okay," Clarke said, nodding slowly. "Show me."

Lexa took a step toward the door, but then Clarke grabbed her hand, pulled her back, and for a second Lexa thought she had detected some threat, and her knees bent and her hands came up, ready to defend herself... but no, Clarke wasn't looking at anything but her. "What is it?" she asked. 

And then Clarke's mouth was on hers, soft at first, then more certain, and the kiss left them both a little breathless. Lexa couldn't be sure what the Sky Girl was thinking, but whatever it was, she wasn't inclined to argue. She just wrapped her arms around Clarke and held her close for a moment, breathing in the scent of her, the clean smell of her hair that shone bright as sunlight even in the dim room. "Ready?" she asked, when Clarke's grip slackened somewhat.

"No," Clarke said, with a lopsided smile. "But show me anyway."


End file.
